Civil Twilight
Bocce dust hung in the air like they'd walked past a kid clapping out blackboard erasers.
The odd rod of sunlight would poke through the clouds every once in a while and the edges of a nearby adobe building would stand out in the haze like gigantic ships passing.
There was a deadly silence over the courts.
Every once in a while, which is what made the comparative silence deadly, the dull thud and sudden *crack* would echo through the cloud.
A small woman, barely discernible though she was only a few feet away, waddled up the court a little bit, letting the green ball drop from her hand, and it sped, seemingly against the very laws of physics, towards the other end of the court, and was obscured from their senses until they heard the very gentle *tick* of polyurethane-wrapped wood hitting off metal, somewhere down the court.
Perhaps that was the reason for the cloud. They were defying the very laws of physics in this game.
Balls that are thrown with minimal force, nay, not even thrown, dropped, suddenly take on a life of there own and bob and weave down the dusty court like a schooner pulling out of a harbour into the rough seas. And the participants can feel the rumblings deep inside the earth as the ball passes along, turning inexorably towards the other end of the court, and the little metal ball.
It was like witchcraft, with coloured balls and food on the tables at the ends of the court and the MacBeth-like fog settling in, sticking to their shoes, their clothes, their hair, staining them grey, prematurely, or moreso. Like witchcraft but without the nakedness and full moons.
The group of four strode down the length of the court, looking... and there they were, red and green balls arrayed around a small metallic ball that nestled into the wooden edge of the court.
"Bocce!" yelled the woman, shattering the silence, and scaring her partner.
He looked at her. "You're not supposed to yell 'Bocce,' you know." He tilted his head the way you do when you're trying to will the other person to speak more quietly by showing them how to do it and tilting your head to imply... quietness. Or something.
"What're you supposed to yell, then? It's not 'Bingo.'"
"No, it's not 'Bingo,' you're right. You're not supposed to yell anything. This is bocce."
"So you yell nothing when you win?"
"Well, we don't know if we've won yet." He gestured at the other couple, who were stretching a tape measure from out over the metallic ball to the closest red ball. They repeated the procedure with the green ball after softly calling out "17 and one quarter inches."
The other couple looked across at each other for a solemn moment. They looked considerably greyer than when they started. "18 inches," the woman said quietly. Her voice cracked in the dry dust.
"Bocce!" yelled the woman, again.
An old man on a nearby bench woke up for a moment, then fell back asleep, unnoticed and invisible in the settling dust.
disclaimer:
Remember kids, it's not bocce etiquette to yell while playing bocce.
And remember to floss.
We shall see you again next week, I'm sure.
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